|
V. THE FOURTH DAY
Hitherto we have traced but one half of the
work which God accomplishes upon the creature which is
subject to his word. Now, having reached "the third day", we pass
from the stages in which the work for the most part is bounding and restraining,
to those where the work is adorning and perfecting; when the distinction
being clearly made between what is of God and what is natural to the creature,
He proceeds to furnish all the various parts with the forms of light and
life suited to each. At this stage, when the earth is raised into heavenly
places, many seem to think the work is done. But now brings the perfecting
and adorning process, which does not cease until "the image of God" appears.
So St. Paul, writing to the Colossians, exhorts
to growth in grace in language exactly answering to the stages of creation
which we are now to enter on; starting from, "If you be risen", and leading
on the Church to "put on the new man, which is renewed in the image of
Him that created him". So he says, "If ye be risen, seek things above":
look for things in heaven, to comfort and enlighten you. Lights to guide,
hitherto unknown, will shine upon you, making alternate seasons rich with
blessing. Then again advance: - "Put on, as the elect of God, bowels of
mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, longsuffering". Put on the
graces which are prefigured in the dove and lamb and ox, which appear in
season upon the fifth and sixth days. And then "put on the new man, which
is renewed in knowledge after the image of Him that created him". So writes
Paul, "without a veil"; so writes Moses, "with a veil", "which veil is
done away in Christ".
We are then to trace the stages after resurrection-life
is known, through
resurrection-lights, till we reach "the moving creature", first creeping,
then walking, but with face earthwards; and then "the man", with open face
and looking upward.
The fourth day's work is "lights set in heaven"; a mighty work: more glorious far than the "light" upon the first day. Then, the light was undefined. Now, lights are come; the one with warmth; the other cold but shining; each defined; one direct, the other reflex; but both to rule and mightily affect, not the earth only, but even the wide waters: giving another check, too, to darkness, not only taking from it Day, but invading and conquering it by the moon and stars in its own domain of Night.
And so after that the seas of lust are bounded, and the fruits of righteousness
begin to grow and bud, a sun, a mighty light, is kindled in our heaven
- Christ
dwells there, God's eternal word and wisdom - no long undefined, but with
mighty warmth and power, making the whole creation to bud and spring
heavenward; while as a handmaid, another light, of faith, grows bright
within -
our inward moon, the Church's light, or truth received on testimony; for
as men say, Christ is the sun, the Church the moon, so is faith our
moon within to rule the night. Of these two, the lesser light must have
appeared the first; for each day grew and was measured "from the evening
to the morning"; just as faith, with borrowed light, in every soul still
precedes the direct beams of the greater light of the Word of Wisdom in
us.
Now both shine to pour down light. Oft should we err, if, when darkness fell, our moon of faith rose not to rule the night. Yet fair as she is, she but reminds us of present night, making us sigh for the Daystar and the perfect day. Thus are "the two great lights" now given by Him who began His work by giving "light". Now He gives the word of wisdom, that is the greater light; and again the word of knowledge or faith, that is the lesser light; then tongues, or discerning of spirits, or healings, like the stars, lesser manifestations of the same one Spirit.
That such lights, so different and so defined, may be within, is never
known by some who yet have been enlightened. The first day's
light has reached them:
perhaps the heaven has come: but the waters are not bounded; the earth
as yet is not fruitful. To such the difference of lights and
their distinct powers must be
unknown. Let it not therefore be unlooked for by them. Not till the earth
has
brought forth fruit are these bright lights set in heaven.
The lower fruitfulness of action must precede the higher delights of heavenly
contemplation. Not till some fruits appear shall we be adorned with heavenly
lights. Then not only is the earth blessed with dews and showers, "the
precious
things of heaven"; but "precious things are now brought forth by the sun,
and
precious things put forth by the moon also". Now we perceive wherein the
borrowed light of faith, resting on witness, differs from the direct light
of truth,
from Christ Himself within. Henceforward even the night is bright with
stars:
darkness is conquered within its own borders. Faith invades the gloom,
turning
it at times almost to day, and approach to the glory, when "no night is
there";
now waxing, now waning, but never to all or fail, until "our sun shall
no more go
down, neither our moon withdraw itself".
Now we see, too, how the creature's darkness,
like death, only brings into view the greater wonders of God's work
in heavenly places. Darkness shews us that the earth has a celestial suite,
bright companions in heaven night and day waiting on it; moving it with
celestial influences, its air, its earth, its tides; giving colour, warmth,
motion, life, everywhere. Who can count all that is given from on high,
when we can see that
our wondrous path is not indeed a lone one - that a heavenly moon follows
- that, though darkness may visit us, henceforth it does not rule us, but
is ruled,
and that even in the night which still remains in us, we have the presence
of
Jesus the mediator of the better covenant, and the Church of the First-born,
and the spirits of just men made perfect, and an innumerable company of
holy
angels, who, like the morning stars, are singing all around? In bright
days their
quiet song, wherein they tell God's glory, may not be heard; yet they watch
and
sing and go with us. The gloomy night will bring them into view, still
ready to
teach us if we have a heart to learn.
These lights are "for signs and for seasons and for years" and "to rule
over
the day and over the night also". For "signs" - first, of what we are.
We have
thought this earth is fixed: but sun and moon shew that we are but wanderers
here. WE HAVE SUPPOSED OURSELVES THE CENTRE; that it is the sun
that moves. The lights teach us in due time that He is steadfast: it is
we who
journey on. Again, these lights are "for a sign" how we stand, and where
we
are; by our relative positions toward them shewing us, if we will learn,
our real
situation. For the moon is new and feeble, when, between us and the sun,
it
trenches on his place. And sets at eventide.
So is our faith: put in Christ's place, it
must be weak: dark will be our night; we shall move on unillumined.
Not so when in her place, not in His, but over against Him, our moon of
faith rises at even, as our Sun withdraws Himself. Now she trenches
not upon Him; therefore she is full of light, making the midnight
almost as the noon-day. So it is said, "Blow up the trumpet in the
new moon"; and when the moon is full "eat
ye the Paschal Lamb"; that is, let the trumpet of the gospel sound, when
faith is
weak: when faith is strong, rejoice together in communion. Thus are the
lights
"for signs" of what and where we are. Turned to darkness and to blood,
they
forewarn of awful fire, when the earth and the works therein shall be burned
up.
Signs they are, too, to the man, when at length he walks upon the earth
- the
image of God, which after fruits and lights is formed in us - to guide
him through
the wastes within the creature, as he seeks to know its lengths and breadths
that he may subdue it all.
Thus are the lights "for signs"; but they are "for seasons" also; to give
healthful alternations for cold and heat, and light and darkness. Sharp
winters
with their frosts, chill and deadness in our affections, and the hours
of darkness
which recur to dim our understandings, are not unmixed evil. In the coming
rest
such alternations will not be needed; therefore no summer or winter or
shades
of night are there. Here, like the gales from the ocean, they remind us
of our
state, and in that state work in the creature what is really best for it.
We could
not bear, while as we are, unbroken day. It would, though we know it not,
destroy the creature. Ceaseless summer would wear us out: therefore the
lights
are "for seasons", measuring wanes and waxes, and Christ is seen and hid,
each change making the creature learn its own dependence; forcing it to
feel,
that, though blessed, it is a creature, all whose springs of life and joy
ARE NOT
ITS OWN.
These lights, too, are "to rule over the day and over the night". To rule
the
creature, much more to rule such gifts as the day, wrought by God Himself
in it,
as yet has been unknown. Even to bound the natural darkness hitherto has
seemed high attainment. Now we learn that the precious gifts, which God
vouchsafes, need ruling; an earnest [downpayment] this of that which comes
more fully on the sixth day. A sun "to rule the day" leads to the man "to
have
dominion", set to rule, not the day only, but every creature. It is no
light step,
when God's aim, hitherto unknown, is learnt; that in His work this gift
is for
this, that for the other purpose; when it is felt that the best gifts may
be
misused and wasted; that they need governing, and may and must be ruled.
No
young Christian feels this; but as he grows up into Christ, his day not
only
shines, BUT IS DIVINELY GOVERNED. The sun now marks the hours,
setting to each their bound: morning is discerned from noon, and noon from
evening. O blessed day, when the creature comes to bask in sunshine; gift
on
gift poured in it in due order from the God all grace!
...Andrew Jukes